Finding Rose
by Permanent Rose
Summary: Rose Casson is now twenty two years old. She owns a painting studio in London and teaches art classes to children. Her siblings are all married with children, but Rose's heart belongs to Tom, whom she fears does not feel the same way about her. Casson fic
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is dedicated to Lady-Clark Weasley of Books, from whom I got this idea. If you are looking for some Casson family fan fics, visit her profile. She's written some fabulous stuff.

* * *

It was good to be back home. Well, sort of home. We were all at Sarah's and Indigo's for Christmas. And since everyone was there (even David) it felt like home.

Masses of children ran around the house, wearing crowns and playing with the cheap plastic toys from their crackers.

"Only seven of them?" Mum had asked as the children all ran by.

Yes, only seven. Four from Caddy and Michael, two from Indigo and Sarah, and one from Saffron and…oh well, poor Oscar who wasn't really part of the family anymore.

And they were all around the same age; Buttercup being the eldest at eleven and the youngest was Caddy's newest little boy.

"Its so nice to have them all so close," Caddy remarked. "The little darlings," she watched as Marigold (Caddy's) chased Simon (Indy's) and tried to bite him. "Reminds me of when we were younger."

"Yes, does seem familiar," said Dad. "Rose used to bite everyone and everything. Even their names remind me of yours. Seems like all my children think like Eve." (Which I wasn't sure if that was meant to be a compliment)

It was true that a normal family would not name their children the names my siblings had come up with. But I loved their names. Their names were what made them unique, even if some of them were a bit strange.

"Buttercup!" Michael had exclaimed when he found out that his eldest son was really truly going to be called Buttercup.

Caddy had (ineffectively) tried to explain about the phone call and the names and how I didn't know that it was a baby, but I thought it was a hamster instead. So.

His real name was Carlos Michael.

"Then why don't we call him that?" asked Michael.

We tried, all of us, but it just didn't work. He was Buttercup to us now.

"But what about when he starts school?" Michael exasperated. "Poor darling little Buttercup."

So it stuck. And he started school. And he didn't mind. (Not too much anyway)

Caddy and Michael's next little girl was born only a year and a half after Buttercup.

"What shall we call her?" Michael had asked as he held his baby girl, who had a mop of dark hair just like him and Buttercup. "Jane? Mary? Susan?" He said this is a hopeful tone (said Caddy)

Caddy looked thoughtful. "I was thinking something a bit more…exotic."

"But I thought you said we needed some normal names in this family?" Michael said.

"But common names are so dreadful. Even you've complained about having three other Michaels in your class during primary school."

"I suppose…" said Michael, caving a bit. "What are you thinking?"

"Well since we already have one flower, I was thinking we could have whole garden of children. I think the name Orchid is absolutely darling."

Michael thought it over. He complied, as long as the flower names did not extend to any more of his boys. Caddy agreed on that.

A little blonde haired girl climbed into my lap, pulling me away from my memory. This was either Caddy's Marigold or Saffron's Cayenne. It was nearly impossible to tell the two apart.

They had only been born three hours apart, and their due dates had been only a week apart. (Saffron had given birth early, while Caddy had been late) Caddy had kept up with her garden theme, naming her little girl Marigold. Saffron, being the only spice, decided to call her little girl Cayenne. (I think that is where Saffy's marriage really began to go down hill. Oscar was even more opposed to exotic names than Michael)

Surprisingly, it was Saffron who wanted the divorce. She was much too headstrong and independent. After the divorce was official, she packed her bags and hauled her little two year old daughter off to Spain, where she took a job as a translator (All those extra Spanish classes had paid off)

"Like mother, like daughter," Caddy had commented one day when Saffron had been home visiting. (We were all at Mum and Dad's house)

Saffron rolled her eyes. "Not entirely like my mother. I assure you, Cayenne is not Michael's daughter." (Luckily Dad hadn't been around to hear that comment)

"Hola, Tia Rose!" exclaimed the little girl in my lap, which meant she had to be Saffron's.

"I'm having a bit of trouble teaching her English," Saffron admitted. "I try to speak it at home, but the school she goes to is taught entirely in Spanish."

Cayenne began to speak rapid Spanish, none of which I could understand (I had taken French in school and didn't even learn that very well) I tried to nod in the correct places, even though I didn't have the faintest idea to what she was saying. She soon tired of me and jumped off my lap and joined the other children.

Indigo sat across the table from me, holding his sleeping daughter in his lap. Sarah had given birth to twins, a boy and a girl (Scarlet and Simon) The birth had been particularly difficult, so Sarah and Indigo decided that two children were quite enough.

"So, Rosy Pose," Indigo used my familiar nickname. "Are there any boys you fancy in London?"

I blushed. "No. Not in London." That _was_ the truth.

After college, I had moved to London and purchased my own art studio where I sold my paintings and taught juvenile art classes. None of the boys I met in either college or London were my type (But then again, what _was _my type?)

Though I fancied no boys, it was no secret that they fancied me. In my teenage years, I had fully grown into my body. Though I wasn't tall, (I was the shortest of my sisters) I was a dainty petite with small curves that boys seemed to admire. I was no striking blonde like Caddy or Saffron, but I now styled my dark brown hair and took care to put on makeup most mornings.

"Still fancy Tom, eh?" Indigo raised his eyebrows knowingly.

I blushed again. I didn't want to admit it, but his words were true. I still did fancy Tom.

Tom and I still kept in touch, even after all these years. We sent each other cards at the Holidays, and emailed each other at least one a month. Tom had started a band with some of his friends back in America. He made sure to send me the CD every time they released a new album. He also sent me plenty of pictures from his band. I loved receiving the albums; I would play them as I painted, but the pictures made me get an uncomfortable knot in my stomach. They were always of him and his band, which bothered me because the lead singer in his band was a gorgeous girl with silver blonde hair. I knew Tom and her were much more than friends, though he never told me. I knew by the way she'd be looking at him in the pictures, or by the way casual way she'd hold his hand, or be sitting in his lap. It made me jealous to no end to think of another girl loving _my _Tom.

The party ended soon enough. The dining room table was a mess. Sarah yawned as she told Indigo to start the dishes. All the children had fallen asleep at various places around the house. Mum was holding Caddy's baby, Charles Darwin ("My favorite biologist," Caddy had said. Michael was just glad to have a child with the normal name of 'Charles') Dad held Cayenne and Marigold, and with them tangled in his lap, it was even harder to tell which one was which. Scarlet was curled up on one of the dining room chairs, Orchid and Simon were on one of the couches, and Buttercup was sprawled out under the table.

We all pitched in to help clean up. After the house was spotless, we made several trips up and down the steps, carrying the sleeping children to their beds.

I was on the pullout couch with Saffron this time. Saffron fell asleep immediately, her loud snores filling the room. I, on the other hand, could not seem to drift off. My mind kept wondering to Tom, somewhere off in America, and I found myself wishing that he missed me as much as I missed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Tom Levin could not sleep. He stared at the ceiling, listening to the ticking of the clock across the room. The figure beside him slept soundly, her breathing slow and even. The thin blue blanket was draped only partially across her form, making her bare back visible. He gently stroked her spine and pressed his lips to her bare shoulder.

"Hmmm," she murmured in her sleep, snuggling into Tom's arms.

Tom wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her silver blonde hair. He closed his eyes, imagining that the girl in his arms was someone else. Disgusted, he pulled away from the sleeping woman. He climbed out of bed and pulled on t-shirt and pair of sweats over his boxers.

Even in the dark, he knew exactly where his guitar was. He silently picked it up and opened the sliding glass door to the porch of his apartment.

It was chilly, being late December, and the cold wind immediately penetrated through Tom's thin shirt. He ignored the cold, though, and brushed the snow off one of the metal chairs. He sat down, shivering, and began to play his guitar.

The song he played didn't really have any words, or rather, the words changed every time he played it. Even though the words changed, they were all about the same person: Rose.

It had taken forever for Tom to finally realise he loved Rose.

"Oh, is that a message from your girlfriend?" Frances had asked one day as she read an email from Rose over Tom's shoulder.

"No!" Tom said defensively. "Rose is just a friend, you know that."

"Sure she is," said Frances knowingly.

Tom had tried to deny it, but he knew it was true. What bothered him more, though, was the fact the Frances had realised it before him.

Now he sat on his porch, writing her songs, when he should've been singing them to her instead.

Tom desperately wanted to tell Rose how much he loved her, but he was frightened to, frightened that she might love someone else, frightened that she might not feel the same way.

Rose was beautiful, Tom knew. Indigo had sent pictures of her over the years, and in the most recent ones, she was absolutely stunning. He wouldn't have been surprised at all if she had a boyfriend.

That was one thing that Tom and Indigo did not talk about. Tom never asked so Indigo never said anything.

And then there was Audrey. Audrey, the beautiful lead singer of the band, and Tom's girlfriend.

He hadn't meant for it to turn out this way. Audrey and he had started out friends. She was charming, witty, and beautiful.

"And completely enamored with you, Tom," Frances had pointed out.

Tom had seen it too, but has never taken the next step. He preferred just friends. But then one night, after finishing band practice late, Audrey couldn't find her car keys so Tom had offered her a ride home. Instead, they both ended up at Tom's place and the line between friends and lovers was broken.

Now Audrey spent the night at least three times a week. Tom felt terrible, not only living in sin with a woman he didn't love, but also because Audrey believed his lies. She didn't know that every time he kissed, he imagined it was Rose, or all the love songs he wrote were not inspired by her, but by Rose.

He sighed, placing his guitar in his lap, and staring off into the stars, the same stars Rose could see, he noted.

"Hey you," Tom was startled by the voice.

It was Audrey, bundled up in one of his large bathrobes, shivering in the doorway.

"It's a beautiful night," noticed Audrey. "A perfect Christmas night."

"Yes," agreed Tom, looking out over the snow covered skyscrapers. _Almost perfect. If only Rose was here to share it with me. _

After a few moments, Audrey spoke. "It's getting cold. Why not come back to bed?"

He had to admit she was right. No matter how beautiful the night was, the frigid air was becoming a bit unbearable.

They climbed back into bed. Audrey snuggled close him, entwining her legs with his.

"I love you," Audrey whispered.

Tom did not reply. He breathed deeply, pretending he had already fallen asleep, for the words she wanted to hear would be a lie.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry its been a bit since I've last updated. I've been busy with other stories.

BTW, I started a C2 for Casson fics. Go check it out if you're looking for some more Casson fan fics. Oh, and if you or anyone you know writes for the Casson books, please let me know. Thanks. Hope you enjoy chapter three.

* * *

_From: _Frances Levin

_To: _Indigo Casson

_Subject: _Rose and Tom

So I found Tom's schedule. He ALWAYShas band practice, but two weeks from now, he doesn't have anything big coming up.

Are you absolutely sure you're okay with buying the plane tickets? I would, but since I'm a fourteen-year-old girl with no job and all…

Make sure you can free up Rose's schedule. She shouldn't be as hard as Tom.

And remember not to mention this to either of them. You know how stubborn they both are. It will only work out if it is a COMPLETE secret.

Email me back ASAP.

Frances

* * *

_From: _Indigo Casson

_To: _Frances Levin

_Subject: _Re: Rose and Tom

Rose's art classes don't get busy until summer, so it will be easy to free up her schedule. And don't worry about Tom's ticket. I'm completely fine with buying it. I won't mention a word to either of them, especially Rose. She talks of Tom constantly, but will never admit she actually likes him. She is so stubborn.

By the way, this was a brilliant idea you've come up with. But what are you going to tell Tom with out giving away the whole scheme?

I've checked out the airlines and I've booked Tom's flight for April 27. Let me know if that will work out.

Indy

* * *

_From: _Frances Levin

_To: _Indigo Casson

_Subject: _Re:Rose and Tom

April 27 will be perfect. And I've told Tom that our Gran needs some help around her house (You remember she moved back to England a couple years back?) I don't think he suspects anything. He said he might come visit you guys while he's over there. Now it's your job to make sure he bumps into Rose.

Speaking of stubborn, I think Tom wins. I can tell he likes Rose (probably even loves her) but he won't admit it. Which reminds me of one slight little problem I forgot to tell you about….

Oh! Tom's coming! Got to go!

Frances

* * *

_From: _Indigo Casson

_To: _Frances Levin

_Subject: _Re: Rose and Tom

Brilliant idea to tell Tom your Gran wants him. I will make sure that he bumps into Rose. That IS the whole point of this trip.

And please do inform me about this 'slight little problem' you mentioned in your last email.

Indy

* * *

_From: _Frances Levin

_To: _Indigo Casson

_Subject: _Re:Rose and Tom

The 'slight little problems' name is Audrey.

She is Tom's girlfriend.

Frances

* * *

_From: _Indigo Casson

_To: _Frances Levin

_Subject: _Re: Rose and Tom

Tom has a girlfriend!? He never mentioned it…you said he loved Rose, though. I'm a bit confused.

Indy

* * *

_From: _Frances Levin

_To: _Indigo Casson

_Subject: _Re:Rose and Tom

He DOES love Rose. He just doesn't fully realize it yet. He writes love songs for her (I found a whole notebook of them that I wasn't supposed to see) He keeps all the pictures you send of her in a special box, and he talks about her nonstop when Audrey isn't around.

Plus, it's more Audrey than Tom. She's the one who loves Tom and the one who keeping the relationship going. I can see that Tom wants out badly.

He'll never realize that him and Rose are meant to be unless someone makes it happen for him (And that would be us) I really think Tom needs this. We can worry about Audrey when Tom gets back from his trip. Plus, Audrey is drop dead gorgeous. She will have no problem finding another guy. Don't worry, Indy. I think it will all work out.

Frances

* * *

_From: _Indigo Casson

_To: _Frances Levin

_Subject: _Re: Rose and Tom

I hope you're right.

If everything goes as planned, I should be seeing Tom in a couple of weeks. I'll keep you posted.

Indy

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: So sorry about the long wait. This chapter is kind of boring. Its a transition chapter that is necessary to get the plot going. The next chapter will be better, I promise.

* * *

"I can't believe you are going to England for a whole month!" Audrey pouted as she stood outside the airport with Tom.

"I know," Tom sighed, secretly glad to be getting away.

They exchanged goodbyes (Audrey sniffling and Tom trying to hide his pleasure.)

So Tom was off for his flight to London.

As the plane took off from JFK airport, Tom stared out the window, watching the huge skyscrapers disappear. He continued to stare out the window until all he could see was the vast blue-grey ocean.

Tom knew that he was going to England for much more than to just help his Gran.

He was going because of Rose.

But would he see Rose? He was staying with Indigo and Sarah's for a day before going to his Gran's. _Maybe, _by some coincidence, Rose would stop by…

Seven hours later, a very groggy Tom emerged from the airplane. He navigated his way through Heathrow International until he reached baggage claim. He grabbed his meager luggage, then searched for Indigo, who was to pick him up. He immediately spotted Indigo standing with Sarah (who was sitting in her wheelchair); each was holding a sleeping child.

"So these must be Scarlet and Simon," stated Tom, looking at the sleeping children. "They're beautiful."

"Thank you," said Sarah, tenderly stroking Scarlet hair.

"We've parked just outside," said Indigo. "Do you need help carrying anything?"

"Nope," said Tom, holding up his two bags (a medium sized suitcase and a carry on.)

"Ready, Sarah, darling?" asked Indigo.

Sarah nodded, shifting Scarlet over to make room for Simon in her lap. Indigo pushed Sarah's chair through the door as Tom followed.

"What time is it here?" asked Tom, who had lost tracked of time over his journey over the sea.

"Nearly eleven," said Indigo. "Nearly six New York time, as Rose would say."

Tom's heart skipped a beat at the mention of Rose's name. He almost asked about her, but stopped himself. He wasn't here to see Rose; he was here to help his Gran.

The car ride to Sarah and Indigo's was silent. Tom sat up front with Indigo while Sarah sat in the back with the children.

Once at Sarah and Indigo's colossal house, Indigo showed Tom to his room, which was much nicer than his entire apartment at home.

Tom fell asleep as soon as his head hit they pillow, dreaming of Rose.

* * *

Tom gathered his luggage the next afternoon. He wasn't ready to leave yet, but he had told his Gran he would be at her house by five.

The day spent with Indigo and Sarah had been lovely. Indigo had taken off work, and they had taken the children to the zoo where Caddy worked. Caddy was delighted to see him.

"How long are you here? You must come over for supper! Buttercup will be delighted to see you. He still remembers that trick with the book you did last time you were here…" Caddy had rambled on for a while, and Tom smiled, politely listening, suddenly realising how much he missed the Cassons.

Four-year-old Simon and Scarlet immediately took to Tom; they were calling him Uncle Tommy by the end of the day. They especially liked it when he did the animal sounds when they were viewing the habitats.

He was sad to leave now. He always savored the family feeling he got when with the Cassons.

"Uncle Tommy, why do you have to go?" asked Scarlet, her eyes wide and innocent, as Tom bent over to hug her goodbye.

"I have to go help my Gran," he told her simply.

"Does your Gran live in the shed 'cuz ours does!" said Scarlet, giggling.

Tom smiled at the thought of Eve, who apparently still spent most of her time painting in the shed. Some things never changed.

"No, I'm afraid my Gran doesn't live in the shed," Tom told her.

"Our other Gran doesn't live in the shed. She got a house even bigger than ours!" Simon informed him.

Tom chuckled, remembering the posh Mrs. Warbeck.

"And I bet she makes you loads of tasty treats," said Tom, remembering back to when he had Sunday dinner at Sarah's.

"Yes!" exclaimed Scarlet. "She makes cakes and pie and cookies." And she added in undertone, "It's even yummier than Mummy's food, but don't tell!"

"I won't tell," promised Tom. "Well, I must be going now."

"I'll miss you, Uncle Tommy," whispered Scarlet, tears edging her voice as she threw her arms around Tom.

Simon joined the embrace. "Will you be back?"

Tom hesitated to answer. Before he could say anything, Sarah hobbled into the room, devoid of her chair.

"Uncle Tommy can stay anytime he wants," Sarah said significantly, raising her eyebrows at Tom.

Tom crossed the room to meet her, Simon and Scarlet still clinging to his waist. He leaned over to hug her.

"Thanks, Sarah," said Tom.

"You are very welcome, Tom," she said. "You know you're welcome here anytime."

Indigo entered the room. "Glad you could come, Tom. You really must visit more."

Tom nodded, suddenly aware of how sad he was to be leaving. He gave everyone one last hug (Scarlet began to cry), picked up his bags, and headed for the door. Just before he left, Indigo slipped a sheet of paper into his hand.

"She'll want to see you," Indigo said cryptically.

Tom didn't understand. He was about to ask, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the taxi pulled up out front.

Everybody waved as Tom hurried out the door and got into the taxi. As soon as he was out of sight, Tom unfolded the sheet of paper.

It read: The Color Wheel Art Shop with an address scribbled underneath.

Suddenly Tom understood.


	5. Chapter 5

**Rose's POV:**

It was Monday morning. But that was not what I was thinking when I woke up. We had all spent the weekend at Mum and Dad's for Mum's birthday. (_We _being me and Caddy and Michael and Indy and Sarah and even Saffron and Sarah's Mum and Dad and I think even David was here (he usually is) and of course all those children) We all fit into the small Banana House. (Don't ask how) It took loads of sleeping bags and air mattresses and packing all the children into the living room like sardines. (Mum was happy to go off to the shed to make more room)

I got to sleep in my old bedroom. So when I woke up I was not thinking about it being Monday morning (dreadful Monday morning means work.) Instead I was thinking of Tom and looking at my bedroom wall, which contained a lovely mural of the New York skyline. (I had done it when I was sixteen. I was surprised Dad had never painted over it. (Dad always kept a store of Scrubbable Magnolia in the basement just in case) The one of the Coliseum in the kitchen I had done when I was nineteen (after Saffron had decided that I should see more of Europe) had been painted over and so had the one on the landing of the zoo, inspired by Caddy. That one had lasted awhile (six years) I had done it when I was only twelve.)

So I was lying in bed thinking of all these things. It almost felt like way back then when Mum would be out shed painting (Not Exactly Art) and Indy (attempting) to make breakfast and Caddy in her guinea pig garden and Saffron and Sarah doing only God-Knows-What and running about the kitchen yelling things like "Rose! Did you take my mobile again? It's nearly out of charge" or "Oh look at the time! I haven't even time for a muffin!"

So when I went downstairs, I was surprised to find it more or less the same. Mum _was _in her shed (but not painting. Hiding, I think, from the chaos inside. I couldn't blame her.) Indigo was cooking breakfast (Eggs. Oh please don't put anything absurd in them!) There were no guinea pigs for Caddy to take care of (the poor dears had died years ago), but there were plenty of children instead. And Sarah and Saffron were running about with curlers and such and their hair, trying to get themselves and their children ready in a short amount of time.

"Where's the hairdryer?!" yelled Saffron, trying to get Cayenne to eat her eggs. (Ugh. Indy probably _had _put something dreadful in them) She yelled something in Spanish and Cayenne immediately began devouring her eggs.

Buttercup had the hairdryer (Why?) I brought it to Saffron.

"I've found one already. An old one from when we used to live here," she told me.

"Oh! Now we can both dry at once!" said Sarah, snatching the hairdryer from my hands.

But that was not such a genius idea. They blew a fuse. And David (He could come in handy sometimes) had to creep into the dark, dusty basement to find the power box and fix it.

And then it was almost time to go and Saffron and Sarah were not giving up the hairdryer (they were now taking turns) any time soon. It looked like today would be a ponytail day.

"Oh look at the time!" exclaimed Saffron because her flight back to Spain was in an hour. And then she yelled in Spanish to Cayenne. I think it was something along the lines of "Cayenne, get dressed immediately because I don't think they'll let you on an airplane naked!"

It was all making me go crazy. Even a slow Monday morning at work with no classes to teach would be better than this. So I left, after kissing all seven children and my siblings and their spouses goodbye (And Mum in the shed. "I advise you don't go in there," I warned her.)

And then I was off to my quaint-but-not-so-posh art studio in London. And it was not until I had set everything up that I realised how quiet it really was.

So I phoned Kiran.

"You know, Rose, most normal people would be working on a Monday morning," was how she answered.

And she was not a normal person? Then I remember that today was a school holiday (Kiran teaches primary school.)

"I am working," I told her. "Or rather, I'm at work."

"No classes today?" asked Kiran.

"Never on Mondays."

"No customers?"

"Maybe later this afternoon."

"Why don't you paint then?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"Paul's on the other line."

Her boyfriend.

"Oh fine!" I huffed crossly. "I'm off to paint a picture. Ring me back later today."

So then I was alone in the too quietness again. So I painted. Except that the person in my painting looked very much like Tom.

"Ugh!" I exclaimed, throwing the canvas on a large stack of unfinished paintings (all that looked like Tom in one way or another.)

"Stop it, Rose," I told myself. "Stop, stop, stop!"

I hit my head profusely against the wall, aggravated that I couldn't have Tom, aggravated that I could never make myself pick up the phone and tell him how I felt.

I went back over to my easel to try to paint something I could actually sell. But I couldn't find my brush.

"Must have dropped it," I mumbled to myself, searching the floor.

But it wasn't my brush I saw on the floor. It was a pair of shoes, that were attached to a pair of legs. My eyes followed the figure all the way up his body until my eyes rested on his face.

"Is this what you're looking for?" he asked, handing me my brush.

But I couldn't answer, couldn't speak. Couldn't even take my eyes off his face.

It was Tom.

And then I think I fainted.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This chapter is dedicated to both willywonka5 and Lady Clark-Weasley of Books. I know they've both been waiting for this. :)_

**Rose's POV:**

_I must be dreaming, _I told myself, _because your unrequited lover just doesn't show up out of nowhere to see you. _

Or at least not usually.

But then there was still the fact that I had not hit the ground after my sudden fainting spell. Instead, I was now wrapped quite securely in a pair of strong arms…

My eyes flew open, I saw a face hovering above mine. He had dark messy hair and gorgeous brown eyes that were full of concern as they gazed into mine. It was most definitely Tom.

"Rose, are you okay?"

I took me a moment to answer. My head was still feeling dazed and spinney.

"I think I must be dreaming," I finally mumbled.

He didn't let go of me as he spoke (which was very fine by me—maybe even too fine because being in very close proximity to him was making me dizzy all over again.)

"I'm in town to help my Gran. Indigo told me this is where you work," he explained.

Since when did he and Indy keep in contact? I thought I was the only one who stilled bothered with Tom. But I didn't dwell on those details for much longer because it was too enthralled with Tom to care about how he got her.

I was more concerned with the fact that he was here. At this exact moment. And he was holding me.

"I'm so glad you're here, Tom," I finally said, and we just looked at each other for a long moment.

Before I knew what was happening, he was leaning in toward me, his face getting closer and closer. I was quite certain he was going to kiss me, but just before his lips reached mine, the door to the shop swung open.

Tom and I jumped apart as quickly as we could. The man who had just entered eyed us curiously.

"Can I help you?" I walked over to him, trying my best to compose myself.

"Yes, I need some paints," he answered.

"What kind?" I asked, almost irritably. I was willing him to leave so I could have Tom to myself once again.

"Acrylic," he answered quickly. Apparently my annoyance had shown through.

He picked his paints quickly, paid, and then Tom and I were alone once again.

"Let's go somewhere," I said, grabbing his hand. I was in no mood to deal with anymore customers.

He followed without a question. I put up the hand painted "closed" signed and we headed out the door.

We ended up at the park. Tom bought us both ice cream bars from a vendor.

It was a lovely day (almost sunny—which was a treat considering all the rain we'd gotten recently) and I licked my ice-cream bar contently as we walked down the paved path in the park.

"So," said Tom, breaking the awkward silence. "Tell me more about your art shop."

So I told him how after college, Daddy had lent me some money to get it started, and how, if I had to be working, this was the best job I could think of.

Which led to things I had painted recently. So I told him about the mural I had done on my bedroom wall of the New York skyline, which wasn't very recent, but for some reason I wanted to tell him anyway. He laughed, and reminded me of one of the first proper murals I had done when I was only eight, the one my family on the roof of the house. The one that Daddy had covered with Scrubbable Magnolia ages ago.

So I told him about the other various murals I had done. (I particularly liked the one of the Coliseum) Which led to my trip to Italy.

Saffy was quite adamant about taking me there.

"You need to be more cultured, Rose," she had told me.

This was because the furthest I had ever been was London and that was only because I had gotten onto the train with Caddy to give her back her engagment ring before she ditched Michael for good…but that is another story.

The trip was quite fun (even though it took ages to drive there—but it was bearable in Saffy's brand new yellow Porsche—which when we got there, the police thought we had stolen it. So Saffy yelled at them in English. Then in Spanish. But that didn't work so we drove away very fast and were able to beat them quite easily because sports cars are much faster than old police cruisers. So)

The rest of the trip was quite nice. We only had to do minimal yelling. ("Yelling at the natives in very loud English is the only way to do," Sarah's father told me before we left. Sarah's mother thought otherwise) I ordered gelato (which is much better than plain, boring ice-cream) with every meal because there were so many flavors that I had to try them all. And then Saffy died her hair pink. And I got a tattoo on my lower back (a tiny guitar—which made me blush when I told Tom) that Mum and Daddy still don't know about.

Of course Tom asked to see it them. So I blushed even more and grudgingly lifted my shirt.

"I like it," he murmured, gently tracing it with his finger. I involuntarily shivered.

We talked about bunches of other things as well (things I don't even know how we got to the topic of) Like socks.

I had never liked wearing them much. And Tom said he didn't either, and we both discovered the other wasn't wearing socks right now, even though we weren't wearing summer shoes. We got a good laugh from that.

It was now getting dark, and our conversation was fading. We had circled the park at least a dozen times and my feet were beginning to get sore.

Suddenly, Tom stopped. I followed her gaze toward the darkening sky.

"An airplane," he muttered. "Do you remember when we used to wish on airplanes, Rose?"

I nodded, and whispered, "Sometimes I still do."

In one swift movement, the space between our lips closed. It wasn't anything like kissing the other boys I had. No awkward. Or wet. Or uncomfortable. It was perfect.

After all these years of wishing, my dream had finally come true.


End file.
